


Dead Man's Party: A Backrooms AU

by MeatballSander



Series: Welcome to Gallow's Creek [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Horror, Mild Gore, Short One Shot, Sleepy Cuddles, Urban Fantasy, backrooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeatballSander/pseuds/MeatballSander
Summary: Ember shook her head, trying to clear it of the fog the hazy yellow overhead lights were causing in front of her vision. Last she had remembered, she was in the evidence room, sorting through a shut case on a colleague's request. She left the room with a file, and... Ended up here. An unfurnished yellow room with one too many adjacent halls and far too many mold patches.There aren't enough lesbian fics on this site so take my OCs
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Welcome to Gallow's Creek [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650853





	Dead Man's Party: A Backrooms AU

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Oingo Boingo song Dead Man's Party. Go listen to it; it's a bop
> 
> Had the sudden urge to write a backrooms au with my OCs and so I did. I did this in like 2 hours in a dark room, the perfect environment for cultivating content. enjoy.

Yellow. Sickening yellow everywhere.

Ember groaned as she began to roll her neck, waking groggily from a sleep she didn't remember falling into. She reached for a grip on the ground in an attempt to steady herself as she got up but all she found was damp. The carpet flooring - of course a dirty shade of yellow - was like an old sponge, uncomfortably moist and soaked through with an unknown grime. If she didn't have a stronger stomach she might have gagged.

Wiping her hands off on her work pants she stumbled to her feet. She was still in the pale dark blue uniform of the small Gallow's Creek police department; just what she had been wearing at work, during what felt like both seconds ago and an eternity before. 

Her hat. She put a hand to her head but all she found was her blunt scarlet hair. Where was her hat? Skirting her eyes around the room she found no trace of it, and if she had been heading home she damn well wouldn't have forgotten her hat. It was a nightmare of a bisque fedora, but it matched her coat and it held a sliver of value to her.

Wait, her coat. She wasn't wearing her coat, either. She wasn't even wearing her work blazer. No, she never went home, did she? She just...

Ember shook her head, trying to clear it of the fog the hazy yellow overhead lights were causing in front of her vision. Last she had remembered, she was in the evidence room, sorting through a shut case on a colleague's request. She left the room with a file, and... Ended up here. An unfurnished yellow room with one too many adjacent halls and far too many mold patches. 

Needless to say, something obviously wasn't right. Living in Gallow's Creek she'd seen plenty of weird occurrences - from a lighthouse on the seafront with an endless set of stairs to a personality-swapping mist looming over the suburbs. But she had never encountered something like this. Something so elaborate, so encroaching. The humid, bile yellow abandoned office space she now found herself was getting to her, her clothes clinging to her skin. 

Like hell she'd let herself quiver with cold. Like many in Gallow's Creek Ember was no human - she herself was a fire elemental, embodying magma. For just a brief moment she let her true form slip through her human façade and her clothes puffed with hot air, drying and warming them. She would never let a place so mundane get the best of her. All she had to do now was find a way out.

She walked with strength, taking long strides and heavy steps that made the uneven carpet creak. The place was a labyrinth, empty rooms of odd dimensions following closely after empty rooms of dimensions even odder. When her eyes flitted back, at times it seemed the door behind her was no longer there. She didn't let herself think anything of it: it had to be a trick. Every good puzzle seems like there is no answer. Every prison has an exit somewhere. Every blade has its chinks. Though she was not afraid - she had better things to do with her time than let fear settle in - she couldn't shake a loose, clinging feeling of loneliness. Confident she could get out of this place though she was, it didn't change the fact it would be more bearable with someone by her side.

And like a cruel god spying on her, that last thought was acted upon. A loud groan echoed through the forgotten wasteland around her; Ember couldn't tell if it were from a person or a thing, but it definitely didn't come from her. She reached for her gun but found no trace of it. _Obviously_. She didn't have it on her when she was at work. Sighing, eyes glaring as they scanned the nearest doorways, she unbuttoned her cuff to roll up her sleeve. Her hand melted into liquid fire, giving off intense heat and dissipating the humidity around her. If anything tried to attack her, she'd melt its face off. 

Slowly, she crept along the wide room, her back to the wall. If she had a heart it would be beating loud in her ears. Yet the only sound she heard was the light roar of her own fire, accompanying the soft echoes in the distance.

Then as if dropped from the heavens, a figure hurtled into her from behind.

The two went tumbling, the tension knocked out of Ember's body as she went ragdolling across the carpet. Her eyes reaching her previous position, it seemed a set of double doors had materialised behind her just to be flung open by whatever the hell hit her. She held her hand up and out as she scrambled onto her feet, determined not to scorch her clothes furthermore deter her enemy. Where were they? What were they? There was someone else in the room, she could sense it, and she couldn't bear the thought of them getting to her before she got to it.

"Eh..." A voice groaned. "...Ember?"

Ember dropped her arm ever so slightly, her brows still arched but her eyes growing wide. Those eyes focused on a figure gradually rising in front of her, clad in swathes of black. 

"Shelley?" Ember's hand became just a hand again, hanging limp on her wrist. The two locked eyes

and ran to each other in an embrace. It was not a hug full of passion or familiarity, but rather a hug just to prove there was someone there to hug. Ember, the taller individual, wrapped her arms tight around Shelley's shoulders and didn't want to let go. Shelley's own hands dug into her back and Ember felt stress flow from her body. She may not have been home, but if there was anyone she could've called on for help it would have been Shelley.

Shelley was a sight to behold: her hair was long, thick and splayed across her back in countless tar black large curls; her skin was deathly pale, akin to bone china (and vastly different from Ember's own deeply tanned skin); her iris and pupils had outlines but held the same color as her sclera, as if a coloring page yet to be filled in; and black lines ran down from her eyes, as if her mascara had run and tattooed their imprint into her skin. She was a wraith, a ghost full of resentment and anger, and had met Ember when seeking help in enacting revenge and passing on. 

"What's going on?" Shelley asked as the two parted. Though her voice was steady as ever, Ember felt tinges of unease. 

"I wish I knew." She scowled. 

"What the hell is this place?" Shelley shook her head. "I was just opening my front door, but it opened onto this place."

Ember frowned. "Why did you go through?"

She shrugged, hesitantly: "I really don't know. I just kept walking, even though I knew something was wrong the moment I saw all this... Everything. Wasn't it the same for you?"

"No, I woke up here."

"On the ground?"

"Where else?"

Shelley grimaced. "I don't wanna know how long this carpet's been here."

Ember ambled onwards, Shelley shoulder to shoulder with her. "You think the walls are just as bad?"

"Yes." She responded quickly as she flexed her fingers. "They feel like memory foam coated in wet newspaper and glue."

Ember quickly took a step away from the wall, zooming in Shelley's direction. Instinctively, she turned to apologise for crashing into her - however, she realised they never collided. She didn't look particularly far yet even as Ember extended her arm, she couldn't reach her.

"What are you doing?" Shelley questioned, looking at Ember's splayed fingers as they invaded her personal space. 

"You didn't move since you said that stuff about the walls, right? Since I asked about them?"

"No, I've been right here."

"Grab my hand."

A hint of an eyebrow raised, Shelley put out her hand and reached. And stretched, farther and farther. Their hands nearly didn't connect but once their fingertips brushed together their hands were entwined, the two of them rushing together. 

"I swear, I didn't move. Your hands were right in front of my face the whole time..."

"Let's not let go of each other." Ember nodded. Shelley responded with the same.

The two set off down the door opposite to the one Shelley had appeared from, continuing their trek through the office space together. Though the yellow haze bored holes in their mind they kept sharp by talking about anything and everything. Ember's new cases, Shelley's latest revenge, a dumb cat video they saw online...

Ember's free hand shot to her back pocket. Nope. No phone. 

The place just kept going. If anything were here to kill them she really wished they would make their appearance already: at least then she would have something to do. Instead, here she and her companion trudged through the physical embodiment of the word 'bland', every inch of it scratching at her flesh and bones as it tried to build a nesting place inside her soul, a burrow devoid of hope. But she wouldn't give up. She couldn't. 

Ember glanced discreetly at her companion. Even in the face of such a bizarre scenario she showed not an ounce of uncertainty. It was an appearance Ember strived for - she appeared this way to others, she had deduced from overhearing office conversations, but that didn't change the fact she was prone to slipping up. She was impulsive and reckless, plus (and though she hated the stereotype) entirely too hotheaded. Perhaps if there were any furniture to speak of in here, she would've snapped at it.

But here stood Shelley, walking along beside her with a deathly calmness. Ember admired her for it. Ever since they first met, she had been like this: an unreadable face accompanying an undetectable presence. She did it so effortlessly, being equals parts graceful and commanding. 

But Shelley wasn't always like this. In moments of privacy sometimes she would bless Ember with a hint of her smile. The softness of her laugh. She'd make a witty joke or remark and they'd chuckle about it together, revelling in each others' company. While Ember admired her demeanor, those fleeting moments are what Ember truly loved about her.

 _Love?_ No. She pushed the thought away. Her chest ached too much. The notion she could ever be with her was laughable. Shelley was a wraith after all, a spirit walking among the world to settle past regrets and nothing more. Latching onto anything new, especially love would be... Problematic.

If Ember never confessed her feelings, Shelley would be able to complete her objective and pass on. Shelley would reach a blissful afterlife... But they would never be together. If Ember confessed then they _could_ be together, but their time would be pitifully short. A new reason to stay would tie her to the living world, forming an unsolvable problem, and Shelley's soul would corrupt. She'd become a revenant, a mindless being of wrath and sorrow, and it would be all Ember's fault.

"Are you alright?" Shelley snapped her out of it. 

"Yeah, why?" A lie. Swimming away from her thoughts, she felt fully how tired they had made her.

"You're gripping my hand rather tightly." Shelley noted.

"Oh-h, right." Ember stupidly went to remove her hand, leading Shelley to grip her arm even closer. 

"You're tired, aren't you?" Shelley sighed. It was accompanied by a soft smile, enough to make Ember return one of her own. "We could stop to rest at an upcoming room. Or any room, really."

"What? No, I can keep going. I'm sure we're nearly there. I'm not going to make you wait just because I'm a little worn out."

Shelley frowned. There was concern in her eyes. "In all honesty, I'm feeling a bit tired myself."

"...What?"

"I don't know how. I'm just... Really sleepy. It's been a while since I've felt so tired."

Ember's face scrunched up, her eyebrows furrowed. Dead people don't feel exhaustion. Something was so very deeply wrong... But she couldn't find the energy to solve it.

"You wanna sit here?" Ember offered. The vile carpet wasn't exactly enticing, but there wasn't exactly a second option.

"If it means I don't have to be on my feet any longer, I'll be happy to oblige."

Together they slumped, slowly accepting their fate and leaning against one of those horrible walls. Touching it, it almost felt impossible to pinpoint where exactly their bodies started and the room began. Ember felt Shelley's cheek resting gently on the top of her head and said nothing. While the circumstances seemed dire, this may be the only time she'd be able to get away with being so close to her. She decided to savour it.

"When we get out of here, first time I'm gonna do is find that bastard who killed you." Ember proclaimed.

"We know who did it." Shelley responded, perfectly still against Ember's side. Her voice hummed along with the buzzing electrical lights, but sang a note much sweeter. "We just have to find out where they are now."

"Well, the moment we're out of here I'm tracking them down - no breaks, no excuses. They're going down before I get the chance to hit the hay."

"How bold of you." 

"And when I find them, you know what I'm gonna do?"

"Enlighten me."

"I'm gonna throw a party."

"Go on..."

"And at that party. I'm gonna poison them."

"Wow, that's... Anticlimactic."

"No, no, hear me out. It's not gonna be the killer kind. It's gonna be the emetic kind. The _strong_ emetic kind. So while they're vomiting their guts out you can come on up and kick him in the face."

Ember could feel the smile growing on Shelley's face. "Ooh, now that's something I'd like."

"Alternatively, you could gouge out their eyes. I'm sure all the other party goers will cheer you on."

"Why choose? Why not both?"

Ember repeated her, chuckling to herself. "You're gonna get 'em good. I'll make sure you do. It's what you deserve."

Shelley hummed, her fingers twitching. She tightened her hand around Ember's, filling the latter with waves of comfortable lethargy - and a newfound, uncharacteristically foolish confidence.

"Hey, Shelley?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. I really, really do." She sighed deeply, coming to terms with whatever she chose to say. "But more than that, I just want you to be happy. Where ever you are."

Shelley said nothing, but moved instead to nuzzle herself deeper into Ember's hair, the chill of her skin soothing and crisp again her scalp.

As Ember shut her eyes she could tell the lights flickered. She could hear distant scratching. Distant footsteps. Moans. Screams. Machinery. A thousand sound bites filled her head, and yet it felt as though she were hearing them from sources above water. Water she was submerged in.  
  
And then all at once she felt as if she were falling. The darkness closed around her like she were being consumed, swallowed, and heading straight for the belly of the beast. Much like in her yellow hell, she had no idea about the passage of time. She couldn't tell if this were part of a dream or if she even fell asleep in the first place.

But even in such dynamic madness, something was static. There was one spark of clarity. 

Shelley's voice spoke in her mind: "I'm glad it was you who chose to help me."

**Author's Note:**

> that's it! if you found a typo please leave a comment to tell me!


End file.
